Page 69 of The Billionaire's Demand

Heavy breathing.

A curse rang through the air, gruff and hoarse, the language foreign, and yet she could easily discern it was a swearword from the harsh inflection.

Fear rose in her chest like a tidal wave, threatening to devour her.

She heard pacing, another expulsion of breath, and then a rasped, accented voice commanded, ‘You can come out of there now.’

Her crystal blue eyes opened in alarm but naturally she stayed where she was, the fingers of one hand crossing in the hope of good luck.

‘You’re the cleaner, sí?’

Her heart sank, but at the same time something like relief flooded her. This was the owner of the boat; she was almost sure of it. She didn’t know his name—the company had simply given her the address and hourly rate—but he’d nodded a greeting when she’d come onboard, said a curt ‘hello’, before returning to his work. His voice sounded close enough to the same.

She’d wondered at the time if it was some kind of Hollywood heavyweight—not unheard of in this uber luxe Sydney marina. He certainly had the looks of a film star. Though he was rough around the edges, she mused, not at all styled and primped. There was a rawness to him that was almost primal, that—

‘Do you speak English?’

Her train of thought was interrupted by his abrupt query.

With shaking legs, Libby pushed up from under the desk, wiping her un-gloved hand down the front of her uniform as she scanned the room quickly.

Yes. It was the same man she’d seen when she came aboard a couple of hours earlier. He was formally dressed for being on a yacht—in suit trousers and a white button-down shirt that was pushed up to the elbows. His shoes were gleaming.

‘We have a situation,’ he said darkly, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘So I gathered.’ She was pleased to have finally been able to locate her voice. Her tongue darted out, licking her lower lip. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Four men have taken over the—’ he paused as the yacht lurched quickly and the man’s eyes swept shut ‘—boat,’ he finished. ‘Though God only knows what will be left of it when they are finished.’ His nostrils flared with indignation.

‘You’re hurt,’ she said, just realising that his cheek was bruised.

The man lifted his fingers, absent-mindedly tracing the line of his cheekbone. ‘It’s not important.’

She bit down on her lip. ‘Do you need something?’

His brow furrowed and his eyes—a deep, dark grey—regarded her with a hint of mockery. ‘Do you happen to have an ice pack in your pockets?’

‘Well, no,’ she finished lamely, cheeks heating at having been caught out. ‘I just—’

‘I’m fine,’ he interrupted, reaching down and scooping up her glove and cloth. ‘And next time you want to hide, you should take all the evidence with you.’ He handed them to her.

Libby winced, feeling stupid, which she hated more than anything. How many stepfathers had made her feel like a fool? Some had simply ignored her; others had tolerated her with obvious impatience. Those men had been bad enough. But there were the ones who’d been genuinely unkind, who’d seemed to delight in berating Libby, in pointing out her every mistake, just because she was thoughtful and considered and liked to know what she was talking about before she spoke.

Spinning around to hide her expression, she walked a little away from him. ‘Have you tried calling for help?’

‘They took my phone, naturally. But you—’

‘Yes, I have one,’ she said, fumbling in her pocket and removing it. ‘No signal.’

‘It doesn’t matter. The emergency number will work, it routes through satellite. Give it to me.’

It didn’t even occur to her to argue. The man had such a natural authority, it was easy to believe that he could somehow make everything better.

She watched as he called, her eyes flitting every now and again to the locked door, ears straining for any noise that might indicate the pirates were returning.

He spoke with easy command, describing the boat to the last detail, plus his best guess of their current position and likely destination. He also described the four assailants, from their approximate ages to heights, plus his own location on the boat.

‘I am here with someone—a cleaner.’ Covering the mouthpiece, ‘What is your name?’

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